The Fouth Generation Visits

 The 4 th Generation visits .. Al Jawahar …

I write this very fondly .. among the many tales my Grandfather often told me one of his tales was a newly formed India .. and how he visited his sister at Matia Mahal .. beside Jama Masjid…… his sister would order or call for a mutton curry …. From Jawahar Restaurant… and he would with fondness… describe every moment and morsel … with great relish and charm . Like he would describe with equal relish .. a murder mystery he solved with his many years with the police…

My mother his daughter equally relishes Karim’s and Jawahar.. our last visit at Jama Masjid to meet a Hakim for her back ailment a few years ago culminated at Karims a mutton Korma and Khamiri Rotis..

I have frequented and taken and been with many   Friends to many a place at Matia Mahal .. the last visit to albeit Al Jawahar was with a dear friend.. a few years ago …it was delicious and delightful followed by Shahi Tukda and Habshi Halwa..

Today … while driving my daughter back from her work place .. I offered her many a snack tio eat on the way .. back … . I wonder what come over me and said shall we have  kabab and roomali roll my go to place of my youth 35- 40 years ago ..Saleem’s .. she said no .. 

We drove past a relatively newly opened AlJawahar in our neighbourhood.. at GK2 .. I have been meaning to call for food or stop by many a time ..but couldn’t..

When dear daughter said let’s stop and check it out we did. I told her they more known for their curries she said let’s try Kababs and Roomali Rotis . That’s what we did ..

A portion of Galautis and portion of mutton seekh kabab .. we would give it 6/10 on food but a 10/10 on the experience and nostalgic memories and family tradition of visiting albeit Al Jawahar .

The fact that fourth generation within the family visited an iconic eatery was the greatest joy and story..

When I was a young boy ..I wondered how can a deeply non vegetarian place have a Hindusque name . I was filled with admiration that a truly secular India named it after Jawahar Lal Nehru our first Prime Minister…little did I know it has meanings in Urdu Arabic .. all refering to a Jewel ..Truly a family jewel for us and almost an heirloom story …for us.. 

And of course my Armored Corps Regiment I am visiting..tomorrow for the raising day has a motto and call themselves Jang Ke Jawahar … what a strange coincidence…

Lonely Lady

 

Lonely Lady

It is International World Women’s Day and I see the lonely Lady I often see her in the Park in the mornings. She comes for a breather and breakfast, while I expand my breath and ambulate. I watch her secretly on my every round. She sits solemnly and stoically and administers her medicine from her well organized and spacious hand bag. She literally carries everything in it, almost her entire world. Tooth Brush and ablutions kit, a small towel, medicines, drinking water, snacks like fox nuts, dried poha and lunch for later. Sometimes I have seen her take a nap in the sun with her a bag as pillow and her ample shawl as a blanket. She dresses warmly. Her face has folds of untold stories.

I inferred, she works in homes in shifts and comes to the park to rest, recuperate and nourish herself. She unpacks and packs meticulously and chews her meals elegantly - daintily. Seldom on the phone, though she has a basic phone, she must be in her 50s or 60s, it’s hard to tell with some faces.

Today, I go closer to her and start a conversation, she empathizes with me like I empathize  with her, we show each other some compassion and then she pours a little out. The homes she works for don’t even offer her a cup of water, let alone a cup of tea ( I have seen her fill a small jar with water from the tap in the park). Yes she works as a cook in few houses in the morning and noon shifts- cooking for them, however she was looking for some work for the evening shift say at 5 pm or so. We exchanged numbers, me hoping to invite her first for a meal when I cook and then look at some arrangement to enhance her scope and quality of life with work or better conditions.

She has an  easy beatific smile and an uncomplaining demeanour and even when she talked about the beastly homes that didn’t offer her anything  ( water, food , place to rest), in this beastly and bitter winter which was bitterly cold, perhaps the coldest I am told  in 70 years.  She, left me, with admiration and beginning of a new friendship on Women’s day.

O Diva O Diva

 

O Diva

I know Diva more and before anyone else we were newly married and together finding our way about living in a joint family. It was a family lunch at Mezze Luna probably the first venture of Ritu Dalmia in  the early 90’s then Diva at GK2, Diva Café at GK1, Diva Spice, Diva at the Italian Cultural Centre… we had been to all of them. Wife has  always loved it, Daughter’s favorite….her eyes light up, and it’s her got to place for good food (she likes Pan Asian and Italian Food)

As TS Eliot in The Love Song of Alfred J Prufock says I have measured my life in spoonful’s of Coffee . I would say, I have measured my life in visits to Diva and its café’s. In many ways, she introduced us to Italian food through her restaurants, her persona and her shows on TV. There were many other Italian food exponents in Delhi…. Nat of Flavors… Italianos and Village Shoppe in Gurgaon (oldtimers would recall).

We had many a fine dine and café meals on occasions and just like that as it’s in my neck of the woods. Once while having lunch, Ritu Dalmia dropped by at our table and asked little Ananya (daughter) all of 12 or so, what have you ordered, Roasted Pumpkin Raviolli , very impressed and took photos with her. True connoisseur of my food she said.

Two, recent visits, one with brother Sanjiv, another a chance meeting with dear daughter Ananya.

First brother Sanjiv, after imbibing a few Titos’s vodkas at home we went to the trendiest neighborhood bar, Yangdup Lama’s Side Car, packed in an Old Fashioned Cocktail each and another Old Fashioned each at Depot 48….  (more of these bar stories later).

We were now ready for the Dinner. We had a reservation we were given the best table… corner by the upper floor window. We were introduced to an old hand our waiter Pandeyji of nearly two decades of fame and service. He took over and got a us great red wine, out of the expensive bottle into a decanter to breathe and served meticulously, a small portion of pasta cooked with blue cheese, nicely done, New Zealand lamb chops, didn’t care much for them, aaah the Pork chops, just divine and highly recommended…..quite a lot to drink a little woozy. But still remember the Tiramisu portion and were we all set after a great dinner attentive service, good recommendations.  Ah yes, the next table was a celebrating anniversary couple with a young builder husband and selfie obsessed sari clad wife… she took more photos of the evening than all the shutterbugs at  Katrina -Vicky after wedding show to the press, yes and the husband took more phone calls than Arnab Goswami, in a talk show. Yet again a great experience left me feeling like the proverbial Pavlovian dog craving for more.

Second, after being reintroduced to Pandey ji and picking up Tiramisu for my daughter another time from him , I requested my daughter to hang out and do her UPSC preparation and study over a coffee at Diva sometimes instead of her permanent address Starbucks a few shops away. And lo behold, a couple of days later I pop in to meet her impromptu and she was at Diva, having a coffee and in waiting for a Raviolli lunch and then we decided to have an exotic desert… plated magnificently… though they claimed they made their own ice cream. I very much doubt it. In all a great surprise lunch, though I had eaten some and joined in. In a Pandey ji  brought us back to Diva after the hiatus of the Pandemic. Go to Diva, now they cater at home and with DIY kits too from Casa Diva, who sends me constant updates.

#italianfood #divacafe #restaurantsreview #cafelife #tiramisu #machiatto #lambchops #porkchops    #raviolli

 

 

The Grammar Of Food at The Grammar Room

 

The Grammar Room

The Grammar of Food is what I have been trying to decipher and build upon for a decade and a half. While I was working with Zorawar Kalra, at Massive Restaurants in 2019 I made it a point to visit all competition in terms restaurants in the vicinity, as we had Bo Tai and were shortly launching Code, I popped into Olive at Mehrauli and its extension, The Grammar Room, which now has an identity of its own. I often wondered what AD Singh does right, location, food, staff service, first mover flexibility… some of them, none of them all of them.

Cut to December 2021, I had a colleague visiting from Bombay he was living at Gurgaon MG Road he said lets meet for a coffee or an early lunch… I said sure and blurted out The Grammar Room, wondering which recess of my mind was this embedded. Brands and visuals get into our brain files and surprisingly jump out unexpectedly.

I walk in, the first customer its 11am, and they are setting up. I am not welcomed almost an intrusion. Another thing, restaurants treat their first guests poorly almost as an intrusion rather than a blessing. I would lay out the red carpet for the first set of business of the day. It’s a cold winter morning, outdoors is cool but I decide to with the pandemic and all take a table outdoors.

A working couple walks in remove their masks open there laptops, small talk and perhaps a frugal order. The lovers walk in the stylish oomph girl Delhi style, talking of Mimosas and capers, you get the drift and the guy a simpleton Jat got rich and spending type for favors later in the afternoon. They get drinking cocktails at 11.15 am , what the hell, live it up.

Meanwhile my guest arrives, we order some burrata - cheese salad, a beer batter fish and chips, an orange juice and some coffee and some bottled Water- Himalayan seen after  a long time  absorb and talk about… stuff, somewhere in between I chat with the  waiter ( who is the head waiter of sorts, he is serving us and the service improved manifold). While laptop girl and boy move away further, the mimosa girl and Jat boy are getting saucy….as her ample bosom peeps from her freshly unbuttoned top shirt…

The food delivers 7on 10 the later improved service is 7on 10 from 4-5 earlier. The Washrooms 8 on 10 … there is no parking even if there is some you fend for yourself. Overall a decent experience, as outdoors are fun and look into a forest, on  Rs 2200 tab. I forgot to pack the fresh apple pie for my dear daughter… then picked up a Tiramisu from the famous Diva restaurant of Ritu Dalmia in my neighborhood, more on Diva soon… stay tuned in till we meet soon…

 

 

 

The Samosa Sandwich Story

 The Samosa Sandwich Story :

Lisieux Higher Secondary School was an all boys school in Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu. This was quite a mouthful to expalin to the Delhi co-education school mates in Delhi in the bitter winter of 1979. 

I arrived in the cold winter and yet ill equipped to battle the Delhi Winter, its rough rude and abusive folks. I found warmth in the Hot Samosa Sandwich at The School Canteen during the Short Break.

It was basically a Hot Samosa dipped into a pumpkin tomato sauce and slipped between two  large slices of Modern or Brittania Bread. It was  heaven and blissful few minutes when the crunch of the samosa met the mush of the filling with the gooey sauce and the dry soft  white bread. The Duo Dayal and  his son Satish owned the Canteen and a staionery store in the school. They also ran a stationery store at The M Block Gk-1 Market after the School hours.They would do brisk busines by briskly and brusquely chirning out a few hundred in afew minutes of the break. For us the world could wait

The Canteen had Samosa Sandwich, four days a week and an option of a Bun Samosa two days a week, which was the oder cousin of the bread sandwich and was a tad more expensive. The Trendy beverage to go along was Campa- Cola, the Nerds had tea, they all became Doctors or went to IIT. We the Outlaws were happy with Samosa Sandwich and Campa Cola which in all cost a rupee and a half.

The Canteen was the Social hub where the who's who of South Delhi would meet and delicately nibble on the Samosa Sandwich and Stylishly Swig on the bottle of Campa Cola. Remniscing this on a rainy Day.

The Blue Bedspread

 The Blue Bedspread:

It was the Monsoon of 1982, it was early August in Delhi and it hadn't rained as yet. My brother got married amidst a lot of celebrations and it was a posh wedding. Then arrived,my sister-in-laws trousseau, we were awestruck and amazed at the  packing, neatness, quality, care and affection which went into everything. I was most awestruck by the enviable clothes my brother got apart from the formals, the casual wear was interesting (Wrangler, Levis, Nike the works) , it was a big deal, remember, it was India in the early 80s.

Amidst all the finery there was this blue bedspread, which found its way to me. It was my bedspread in the graduation years. I carried it along when I joined the Army and travelled with me for 6 years as part of my tour of duty, Madras, Pathankot, Ahmednagar, Amritsar, Sonmarg, Srilanka and Mhow. I adorned it on my bed in many rooms and brightened up the drab surroundings. It served the country along with me and was robust and received many compliments from fellow visitors.

A year of education, Post- graduation, the tour of duty over, I was back to my parents home and the bedspread was back with me.... slowly , life turned a new leaf and I was married and bed spread became one that many my wife brought and bought in. I met the fellow far and few times as there was a wide variety. Twenty years of marriage and togetherness and the bedspread made a guest appearance in the three homes we lived in, sorry a fourth home too (was our weekend home for a while). The came the daughter, and she played and grew from a toddler to nearly a teenager, meeting the bedspread.

Then Boomerang,nearly 10 years ago, I was back to my parents home and somehow the bedspread followed me. By now over the years, with hundreds of washes it had become so soft and smooth that I prefer it over any other. While I write this piece in the Monsoon of 2021, it's my Brothers and Sister-in- laws 39th Wedding anniversary that's coming up and that makes this bedspread that old with me. I understand it has American Origins and looks store bought, but what a bedspread it has brought joy to me in all situations and circumstances. Thank you Poonam and your parents for this lovely gift amongst others that came my way in my life.

The Tadka Story : United by a Pan

 The Tadka Story: The Tadka Gang 

The humble Tadka, tempering for any Dish , Dal, Curry, Tagine … is the final transformation to make a simple dish an extraordinary dish.. the Midas touch of the cook ,chef and master chef…But this story, is in the cold rainy winter night of Chakki river near the Mamun Cantt near Pathankot  at the foothills of Himalayas in Northern India.… night of flash floods, wet, damp, cold ..you couldn’t feel your toes. Tucked under a bivouac or tarpaulin we had made a cozy shelter between two Vijayant tanks…

That night I was introduced to The Tadka Gang ..grim gangly and now cheerful Gang of Four sometimes Five soldiers , buddies brothers in arms , would bring Dal from the cookhouse and one of them who was off duty .. during the evening  or lunch time would turn this humble Dal  to an exotic dish, Ghee brought from home  (village) onions tomatoes green chili etc. (picked up from afield, or a farmer, or previously bought and carried) made in a exotic Tadka..and mixed into and reheated on a hidden stove.. as cooking in the lines( living quarters )or operational areas wasn’t allowed.

The Tadka Gang usually indulged in a casual cocktail hour prior to devouring this exotic meal of tadka Dal and rotis onions and Canteen bought pickles. They chatted, reminisced about home, bitched about bosses. They were a band of brothers who bonded over tadka. They covered up for each other in peace or at war. Very close informal group which we often see in the corporate world, a bunch of guys who eat together, party together and generally hangout.This tadka gang then started tempering every dish to make it more palatable, and one would need a party ticket to join this gang or an invite.

How can a humble , modest, pan of tempering unite people from different communities and backgrounds, its an interest group. Maybe the internet needs to learn a lot more from such simple stories.

United by the Pan.